Anticipated Return
by rousseurlyon
Summary: Two weeks she'd been on assignment and two weeks had been their limit. Without Ziva to anchor and guide them the DiNozzo duo were a mess.
1. Chapter 1

She nurses a cup of tea in the comforting embrace of her alcove; the heavy pitter-patter of rain drops against the frosted window her only companion. What lies just beyond the glass barrier reflects her melancholy interior; trees shedding their leaves in preparation for winter, the spring flowers withering, unable to survive the frost Mother Nature has begotten upon them. The streets are quiet, uninhabited and gray; not a soul brave enough to brace the storm that looms the city.

The branches scrape the window and it's almost mistaken as a cry for help, seeking shelter in the warmth of their home. But the absence of her mother leaves a chill that not even their furnace can warm. She's not sure the first glimpses of winter can match this lonely chill.

The roaring winds send shivers down her spine and involuntarily her fingers tighten around the cooling mug. It once housed her hot tea, the liquid burning pleasantly down her throat when she'd taken the first sips, but now all that remains is a few cooled drops. The tea had served its purpose.

She continues to stare blankly out the window, so entranced with the wonders of mother nature that she misses the added weight to her shoulders, the warm cloth being draped over her shivering body -her thin pyjamas not of much use to combat the cool air from diffusing into her body- by who she can only assume is her father. Her mother is not home.

Her mind doesn't dwell on that much as her attention is pulled by the roar of a flame contracting oxygen, sputtering to life, away from the war of nature against nature outside their apartment. Fire, it's a magnificent thing.

Her father mumbles furious words as he struggles to maintain the power of their fire, but she's not in any mood to deal with him today. It's supposed to be a jovial day; a welcoming day, and not even the gloomy cloak embracing D.C. will ruin the celebration in her heart. Her head rests against the pale wall - the fire's heat coursing through the apartment, fighting for dominance against the cold air that cocoons their home- and her eyes weighted down by the solemn of her mother's absence, close. The crackling of wood and the heat transpiring through her body a calm her apprehension.

Though not fully dissipated, the apprehension diffuses back as the clash of cold and heat reproduce fog against the window. Her view of the street has been compromised and an agent on stakeout, it's a nuisance. Her sly suspect requires attention, but the window keeps fogging and her view of the outside world nothing but a blur. Frustrated, she wipes it away, but it does nothing but transfer the perspiration onto her shirt, cooling her warming skin, and blur the window further.

Its futile battling against the forces she cannot control; that much she has been taught by her mother and grandfather. The loss elicits a sigh that starts from the pit of her stomach and travels through her entire body and onto the window. Her warm breath hits the cold glass and more fog is replaced.

It's futile. Her head hits roughly against the window, the sound resonating and cutting the thick blanket of silence that looms –a rare occurrence in the DiNozzo household. But with the heart of the family missing, the father daughter duo has not been their usual selves, especially as the days carried on. But today, that would all come to an end. They were expecting someone.

…

Sleep had been cut short for Anthony DiNozzo that morning when a small frame tiptoed into his bedroom, scurrying to the bed and burrowing into the disheveled sheets. She'd found her way into her father's embrace, whispering, "mommy is on her way home" into his chest.

Two weeks she'd been on assignment and two weeks had been their limit. Without Ziva to anchor and guide them they were a mess. The first few days after her departure had been welcomed pleasantly. Take out when they'd pleased, movies of their choosing, and minimal housekeeping, but as the days progressed their newfound freedom had been all but abused and they were more than ready to have their soldier return home.

With no contact from their third member, no updates on her state, or casual hellos, they were experiencing withdrawals, falling down a rapid spiral. But the good news had come the night before from a loving grandfather and tough loving boss. Ziva was to return to them that morning. And Lila, their ever impatient child had taken his words to heart, camping out by the windowsill all morning, only to be disappointed as the minutes ticked by and the cars sped by; no sign of her mother.

Tony too was growing impatient, worry clouding his mind that their wife had not graced them with her presence. She would come today, but her arrival would seem eternal if they continued to stare blankly out the teasing window. They both needed a distraction, something to make the hours tick by like minutes and not the other way around.

His daughter though, does not seem as willing to the idea. She turns slightly and smiles tightly. She does not want to be disturbed and her father is an unwelcome distraction. Her head shakes and looks at him quickly, the words "I'll wait for mommy here," spilling from her lips. There was no convincing their stubborn daughter.

Over the years mother and father have come to realise that their daughter has inherited both their stubbornness, combining to form an unstoppable force. She would be trouble; already was and he'd learned long ago to choose his battles. This was not one of them.

"Can I join you?" He inquires and when she smiles at him brightly and pats the seat next to him, he does. But moments later he's at his feet again, mumbling "be right back" as he disappears into the kitchen.

Lila keeps her eyes on the window, the fog all but dissipated and the view of DC restored. Her eyes are trained at the commotion travelling from the kitchen and she wonders what it is her father is up to. Her question is answered moments later when the man in question returns with two steaming mugs.

Two sugars and a pinch of honey are the flavours that catch her attention the moment the liquid wakes her taste senses. This is her mother's special drink and her father had made it for them.

Silence continues to fill the apartment, nothing but the crackling of wood and sipping of tea to fill their ears. But Tony DiNozzo is not a man of few words. Quite the opposite in fact, he talks with as many words as he can fit into a silence. "She'll be home soon." He offers up. He's not quite sure when, but he knows she'll be here today. Gibbs hasn't failed them yet.

Though his concern does grow when the hands on the grandfather clock standing proudly against the farthest wall, displays the hour. It's nearing five o'clock and he can feel his daughter growing restless, concentrating on the times she's sighed in the past hour. He too feels the same way. He just wants his wife home.

He wraps his arms around his daughter's shoulders, bringing her thin frame to lean against his side. He can feel her relax against him until they hear the door click and both turn to glance at it. Is it?

…

She stares at the door, listens as she hears someone turn the key in the lock. She's grounded to the windowsill unable to move. How had she missed the cab? It must have been while her father brought over their drinks, but she can't find it in her to be mad at him. Her mother is home and that is all that matters.

The frown that took residence upon her face is evicted and a smile takes its place. The twinkle and spark return to her eyes and she turns to her father, beaming. She's home. Her mother is home.

She is impatient for her mother to walk through the door, but the woman seems to struggle with her keys and instead she jumps from her spot and runs to the door.

Her mother stands before her, a backpack slung over her shoulder and a gift bag in her hand. Her mother is gorgeous. Her curls, just like the ones she'd inherited, are untamed, roaming freely in the wind. She's gorgeous, but the bags under her eyes, the redness of her sclera and the swelling and purple marks around her face and arms take away from that.

"Tateleh," she beams and just like that her exhaustion is masked and a smile appears in its place. A Golden Globe worthy act. Her arms outstretched and Lila runs into them, wrapping her small arms around as much of her mother as she can get. She missed her.

"You're home," she relays into her mother's neck; the smell of battle mixed with her mother's natural scent and she finds it oddly comforting. She senses her father's presence looming at the door. She knows he wants his turn at a hello, but this is her mother. She's missed her. Her father can wait.

Her mother's lips graze her temple, leaving a lingering kiss in its wake. "I'm home tateleh," she murmurs and for the first time she notices the rasp in the women's voice, breaking too. Lila is no stranger to these welcomes, but this time there is something else. She can sense there is, but dare not ask. Her parent's shield her from these things, but she's certain that this time her mother is not whole.

…

Looming by the door, he watches the interaction between mother and daughter, but his eyes won't leave Ziva's. Something happened on her mission, something she is so desperately trying to hide from them. Her returns are always nostalgic, but this time something is off. Her hold on their daughter is tighter, desperate even. The injuries on the surface are far worse than he'd seen her return home with since Lila had been born.

He must not be doing a great job at hiding his distress because his wife glances up to meet his eyes. "Later," is mouthed from her and he nods. They could discuss this later in the privacy of their bedroom where no prying ears could hear them. Their daughter did not need to be privy to the cruelties of this world.

Tony takes the backpack from her, the gift too and he watches as Ziva gingerly cradles their daughter in her arms. He follows them over to the couch, locking the door behind them and depositing her belongings on the couch chair before joining their side.

"I missed you so much motek." The crack in her voice is evident but again she plays it off, offering them both a reassuring smile. Her daughter responds by snuggling further into her embrace.

Ziva signals him to bring the bag over. He hesitates for a moment, but he grabs the bag and joins them back on the couch next to his girls. She kisses his cheek, mending her body into his as she holds their daughter.

"I brought you a gift, tateleh." What other gift could she have brought their daughter? Her return home, although not unscathed, was gift enough.

But his daughter smiles widely, her eyes shining as she looks up at them. "Really?" She queries. Now that her mother is home Tony notices that spark returning, the same spark that had eluded days after her mother's departure.

He observes his wife's every movement; her stiff nod, her face scrunched and he can only imagine that beneath her clothing there are more bruises hiding. More injuries sustained but she will not pay them any attention if it means removing her daughter from her embrace. He's watched her suffer through worse, never offering importance to her needs, always his and their daughters. He will take care of her tonight. He will kiss away at every injury. He will make her feel loved, remind her what it is that she's missed over the weeks. He is blissful that she is home, but his heart is heavy with her worry.

With tentative hands, Lila takes the bag from her mother. She looks up at her for approval and with a small nod she opens the bag. Tissue paper is tossed off to the side, the bag forgotten on her lap as she finds the precious memento hiding from its owner at the bag's abyss.

Her hands touch the cold metal, her fingers entwining with the chain and she pulls out a necklace. When her eyes catch sight, she gasps. "Do you like it?" His wife solicits.

Tony watches in awe as his daughter cradles the necklace with adorning hands, her fingers sweeping over the locket, stopping only once she's found the inscription of her name in cursive script. "It's beautiful."

"Open it," she instructs and the girl follows robotically, too entranced with the wonders of her gift to do anything else. Inside is a picture, one Abby had captured of the family at their weekly dinners. Tony had ordered Abby to send it to him and this is what his wife had chosen to do with it, a perfect gift indeed.

"So we will always be with you." He wife adds moments later.

His daughter leans further into her mother's embrace. "I love you, ima."

He can feel his wife suck in a breath and his arms tighten around her hold. He needs to get his wife alone. She is not okay and he needs to make it so.

"I love you too, forever and always." She relents. There is something that is eating her away and he needs to fix it. Make it better somehow, but for that he needs his daughter in bed. His wife will not display her raw emotion in front of their little girl. She would never scar her in that way.

She is a wonderful mother and a wonderful wife. He snuggles his girl's closer, joining in on their moment by offering, "I love you both."

He is so glad she is home. His wife. His family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is part two of what was only going to be a one-shot, but so many asked what happened to Ziva, so here you go. Hope you enjoy.**

Pirates of the Caribbean captivates young eyes as Mother nature continues to wage war. The youngest DiNozzo has inherited her father's love for cinema and while princess movies are welcomed into the home, they are not preferred. Action and spy movies are more along her interests, though it was not without some persuasion for the Disney movies. They had just wanted her to be a kid, but when it seemed their daughter was just as strong headed as her mother, they hadn't fought it and allowed her her choice of movies, within reason of course.

With a bowl of popcorn and a glass of apple juice, their daughter settles on the couch. Tony prepares dinner and their returned member seeks comfort in their bedroom. Night has blanketed the city and souls rise from the shadows. One more joins the masses, bringing heartache to a hardened warrior.

Soft Hebrew flows through the apartment as a broken heart seeks comfort from a familiar elder. Her warrior mask had been worn from the moment she set foot into the home and only her aunt could penetrate it. In the privacy of the office, her heart is raw as she speaks to her aunt of what will be done for him.

"I have agreed to take over the arrangements." She inhales trembling, the air like shards of glass against her lungs. The wounds are still fresh, the band aid ripped too soon and exposure stings. Her heart is marred with wounds and the new addition infects old ones, causing the scabs to fall and leaving it raw.

"I would like to be there doda." Her voice cracks like cement in an earthquake and the tears hidden behind a boulder are released as a result. Schmeil was more than a friend. He was a companion. Family. The memories of her mother's death and sister are an old film that are stuck on replay. The callouses that she'd thought she built are lost along with the scabs. Her heart is foreign to this pain and with no immunity, it hits full force.

"I would expect nothing less."

Like a broken dam the flow of tears doesn't stop. They are silent to a degree, but the lack of response alerts her aunt to her actions. She shudders with each passing moment of overwhelming emotions. Each one stronger than the last, the bolt of energy coursing through her strikes her heart and the beating becomes irregular. Breath in. Breath out.

Husband and daughter's voices trespass the safety of the alcove, reminding Ziva she is not alone. She retracts like a slinky, her emotions returned to their locked box and apologises on instinct. Despite the years away from her father's suffocating hold, there are some habits that are hard to break. Weakness is not her strong suit regardless of the many people who've shown her that it is human nature to not hold it together in times like these.

But why break down when it wouldn't mend her wounded heart; wouldn't return the lost souls nor would it cause the pain to dissipate. The lesson had been learned the hard way. Constant nights of crying for her mother, her father storming into her room one night after work, silencing her with a threat. She'd vowed that night, that she'd shed all her tears she would ever possess so that she may never cry again. Different circumstances colour this night, but that young girl still peeks its head in the presence of agony. A father and daughter are a much better support system than the lone teddy who silenced her tears.

Knocking cuts the bond between the past and present. The door moves on its hinges and a different young girl peeks her head. This one she smiles for, her light. Hands swat bloodshed eyes, wiping any evidence of sorrow from them. Her daughter would be told the truth, but they wouldn't burden her on her mother's return. Sadness would not taint this day.

Open arms plead for the comfort of her daughter and the young girl, without hesitance, climbs into them. "Daddy-" she starts, but Ziva cuts her off, Nettie speaking on the other end. "Give me a second tateleh."

Chuckles illicit from her tongue. "Yes, she's right here."

Her eyes have brightened, the sun shining through the cloudy day. "Someone would like to speak with you." There is never a day the little girl doesn't wish to speak with her aunt.

That bright light is reflected in her daughter's eyes, the sparkle of speaking with her aunt. With her mother gone, that line had been quiet downed as well. She offers a very welcome and cheerful shalom. She regales her father's and hers adventures while her mother was away being the hero she knows she is. They'll be engaged for a while and her daughter distracted, she sets her on the bed, escaping to their on-suite to splash cold water on her face. Her heart is raw and exposed, but the outside didn't have to match the inside. Her daughter wanted her mother.

As she hears her daughter's "bye-bye, doda" she shuts off the water and with a fixed smile returns to her room. Setting her cellphone onto the nightstand, she hoisters her little girl on her lap and her hand runs through the curls like silk. Like bees to honey, her daughter melts into her mother's touch, her head falling against her chest. Lips kiss the curly mess and tears water the forest. A quiet storm cast against the dried forest and its inhabitants are none the wiser.

Time ticks and mother and daughter stay cuddled in the nest of blankets. Wafts of the food coming to its final minutes catches their noses and with wide eyes, Lila jumps out of her mother's arm. "Dinners ready! Daddy sent me."

"Smells like it."

Vigorously she nods, the loose screws rattling. "We cooked all your favourites." Enthusiasm colours her.

Clutching her hand, she drags her out of the room. For now her emotions are tucked away, the darkness hidden by the light her daughter radiates.

...

Dinner had been a welcomed distraction. Her favorite Israeli comfort food had adorned the table and their daughter the court jester, had provided the entertainment. Excused from the table, she'd scampered off towards the privacy of her bedroom. There was work to be done and both adults had been left to tend to dinner's mess. An in sync system, she dries while Tony washes, but Tonight she's silent. Tony has the kitchen cleaned in the time it takes Ziva to dry a single dish.

Ziva is brought to settle at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea set before her. Tony joins her side, her hand resting between his larger two. "What's wrong, Zi? You've been out of it since you arrived."

She checks the hall for young ears before speaking. They'll have to tell her, but not just yet. "Schmeil passed away this morning." The words slip from her tongue like honey, but the trail is bitter. "Nettie is helping with the arrangements, but I would like to go Tony."

"Of course, honey. We will all go." His hand squeezes her hip, urging her to stand. A guide, he leads her to his lap and their chests kiss. Her arms tighten around his neck like a lifeline. "When do we need to leave?"

Face buried in the crook of his neck she realises that sleep would not come for her tonight. "Tomorrow," she mumbles.

His lips meet her unruly curls. "We can make that work."

The boulder is loosened and more tears fall, dampening her husband's shirt. The tears don't stop, the force increasing, but like every water source it must run out and he lets it.

Empty wells, embarrassment colours her face, but it doesn't faze Tony and he wipes at her eyes. "Oh, honey."

"'M okay," she repeats. "Thank you."

With Ziva in his lap, Tony stands. The mug is placed in the sink and the pair walk out the kitchen. "Come on, let's go give the trouble maker her bath."

With her family, she just might make it through the night.

...

The war outside has calmed as the inhabitants of the DiNozzo household prepare for bedtime. Their daughter barges into their bedroom, a chapter book in hand. Like Tiger she jumps into their bed and settles between the covers. A trick to sleep in their bed tonight, sandwiched between her parents.

"Momma, will you read me a bedtime story?"

Ziva realises all too well what her daughter wants, but tonight she can't give in. Their daughter must sleep in her room for there is still too much to talk about with her husband. "Hmm, but in your own bed missy."

Ziva's arms grasp her tiny body and socked feet release plush bedding for cushioned waist. "Kiss abba good night." Ziva spins her daughter to face her father and the young girl stretches to kiss a stubbly cheek.

"Laila tov, daddy."

"Good night, sweetie." He leans in, his breath tickling her ear as he whispers, "make sure to get mommy to sing two songs tonight."

Their whispers are voices in the wind and they reach her ears perfectly. She shakes her head at the pairs antics. "Can I make it three?" Their daughter's head falls between the crook of her neck for further effect of her plea.

Tony heaves a light laugh and the hopeful smile plastered on their daughter's face falls at her father's shake. "Don't push it, munchkin." Normally Ziva would indulge her daughter, but the burdens of the day are weighing on her and she's exhausted, emotional and raw.

Their daughter's sigh is dramatic, her acting skills on par with those of a golden globe. "Fine, I'll settle for two." Lila's head finds the sculpted place at the base of her mother's neck. "But one has to be my lullaby, she whispers at her mother, eyes pleading.

Tony's lips skim the top of Lila's brown curls and momentarily they stop their exploration at Ziva's ear. What's passed on from husband to wife is missed by the child. "Night," Tony offers.

The melody starts, the words barely making it to her daughter's ears before her eyelids are stone. Ziva's lips kiss her forehead and she settles at the base of the bed, watching the rise and fall of her daughter's chest. Dread spreads through her at the thought of having to break the news of her Schmeil.

"Laila tov, libi." _Good night, my heart._ Two weeks away has not tainted her memory of their routine and it hasn't taken long for their little butterfly to succumb to slumber.

At the return to the bedroom, Tony is waiting at the edge of the bed. He pats the bed for her to join him, opens his arms for her to fall into. She treks the distance between and falls into his embrace.

"I prepared you a bath." Bridal style she's carried into the bathroom too surprised to protest, not that she would, but there is still one thing she is hesitant to show him; the blue roadmap left behind on her skin.

Though as he undresses her in the middle of their on-suite, he doesn't say a word. Her privacy is respected and he too undresses to join her.

"This is not just for me?"

He stalls. "If that's what you want, honey, then sure."

His boxers pool at the floor and Ziva drags him into the tub. Their foreheads kiss and she settles against his chest. "Thank you for everything."

"For you, anything."

...

Birds chirp the chorus of their species, the sun blankets the earth with a sheet of warmth and friends and loved ones of Schmeil Pinkhas gather to wish him farewell into the descent of a new life. At Ziva's arrival to Israel, she and Nettie had set to prepare his funeral. Their daughter had been told the truth the morning of their departure to the country of Ziva's childhood. The young girl had taken it in, but the tears she shed cut at both the parents heart.

Now, the day has arrived, the small family dressed in black and she stands before the guest, delivering the eulogy. Sleep did not come to take her for the words had to be perfectly crafted, a masterpiece. Her friend was a man much greater than human words could describe. His adventures, lessons, beliefs and charity were too big to be contained in such a small script. But she's found adequate words over several cups of tea and two hours of restless sleep.

She stands at the front, reciting the words she'd written down. Love drips from her words, amazement and awe at the life her dear friend has lived, trying to convey it to her audience. Her heart is overcome with sadness, but the words spell other things: grateful, awe, and love.

Her life had been filled with misery and death, but she forgets that there are people who have made it blessed and she doesn't realise how blessed until Tony takes his turn. Uncomfortable in situations such as these he resorts to jokes, but they are mild and he spins several stories of their meets. In the end, he becomes somber and he thanks their dear friend for what he has done for not only his family, but for Ziva in particular; for keeping her safe until the two lovers could find one another. Schmeil had done his job and now it was Tony's to continue.

Their daughter speaks next. Words are foreign to her, but she's entrapped an audience. Schmeils visits were always one of adventure and mystery for the young girl. She'd sit in his lap and listen to the countries he's visited and the things he'd done. The dragons he's slayed, their daughter would say. Visits were always cut short, another adventure waiting for him. At the end, their daughter would pack her bag and stand at their friend's side, begging him to take her. She too wanted to explore the wonders of the world and slay its dragons. But at such a young age, such things couldn't be allowed and with a sparkle of a smile he'd promise, soon. Now, as they stand before his casket, such promise would not be kept.

Though, what Ziva didn't know was that in his will Schemil had left a fund for Lila, so that she may travel some of the world and slay those dragons. On her sixteenth birthday those funds could be accessed and Tony and Ziva were to take her to explore the world. Waiting would be clues for her to find, reminders of their long held friendship. It was a worldwide scavenger hunt, waiting for the brave knight.

For Ziva he'd left everything else, he knew that one day she'd want to dedicate her time to her children, but he also knew that leaving her job was something she couldn't do completely. With the money, along came an explanation. "So, that you may work part time and spend the rest with the greatest gift in the world."

He would never be forgotten. Within her heart, she knew Schmeil, her ima and Tali are watching over her family. At the end, she sends the audience with "may you rest in peace, dear friend."

The End.


End file.
